


Being Human

by buttercupcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas wears nail polish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angel Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Light Angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Nail Polish, Shipper Sam, Smut, slight come play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercupcas/pseuds/buttercupcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently human, Castiel is struggling with his emotions. Every day is a challenge and it doesn't take much to set him off.</p><p>Today, it's his chipped nail polish, and poor Dean bears the brunt of his anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> For Lena.

Dean uncertainly hovered outside Castiel's door, his hand poised to knock. It had been hours since Cas last left his room and Dean was starting to worry. The fact that Cas was just recently human only exacerbated his concern. Logically, Dean was aware there wasn't a lot of damage Cas could do by refusing to leave his room. But, then again, logic never did apply when it came to Cas. 

Dean mustered up what little courage he could and rapped his knuckles twice on the door in rapid succession. 

“What?” Cas' voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“Cas? You okay in there?”

“I'm fine, Dean. Go away.”

Dean bit his lip at the sharp sting of rejection, but refused to back down. 

“C'mon, man. You've been in there all day. You gotta at least be hungry. Want me to make you something?”

“No.”

Dean sighed heavily, resting his hands on the door frame and looking down at his feet. 

“Can I come in?” 

There was a pause.

“If you must.”

Ignoring Cas' tone, Dean pushed the door open, heart clenching at what he saw. 

Cas was lying in a nest of pillows and blankets. His face was upturned, staring blankly at the ceiling. A pang of guilt hit Dean as he watched Cas lying there, unresponsive. He knew this was his fault. He was responsible for Cas, damn it; he couldn't even keep him safe, let alone happy. 

Dean stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for an invitation that wasn't going to come. Feeling like he was trespassing, he made his way over to Cas' bed. When Dean sat on the edge, Cas rolled his body away from Dean and he felt his heart sink as he stared at the back of Cas' head.

“Cas?” Dean's voice was barely a whisper. “Did I do something wrong?” 

A morose sigh escaped Cas, and he rolled over on to his back. He sat up and brought the blankets with him, using them to create a makeshift body-burrito around himself.

“No.”

Dean waited for him to elaborate, and raised his eyes when it seemed like Cas was going to leave it at that. 

“Dean, this isn't about you. It's just … My nail polish chipped.” 

Dean blinked. 

“Your what?”

“My nail polish, Dean.” 

Cas raised his hands from where they were holding the blankets around him, which caused them to fall from his shoulders. He presented his hands to Dean, proving his nail polish was, in fact, chipped. The midnight blue colour was all but gone from Cas' nails. 

“Is that what all this moping is about?” Dean laughed slightly. 

A thunderous expression crossed Cas' face, and Dean swallowed nervously. 

“I am not 'moping.'”

“Right.”

“ _Dean_. I'm serious about this.”

Dean took a moment to study Cas' face. His stormy eyes were shining with tears of frustration, eyebrows slanted in anger. His wide mouth was pouted, and Dean sobered quickly. 

“This is really bothering you, huh? Why don't you just repaint them?” 

Dean's voice had softened; Cas, however, looked – if possible – even more upset. 

“Because the bottle is empty, Dean. What are you even doing in here?”

Dean's eyes widened at the sudden change of topic. 

“Uh, you said I could come in, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I'm not an amnesiac. Now answer the question.”

Cas stared at Dean, impatiently awaiting an answer Dean wasn't sure he could give.

“I, uh. I,” Dean's eyes dropped to his hands, and he began fidgeting with the corner of a blanket. “I was worried about you.” His voice came out softer than anticipated, revealing just how much he meant what he said.

“I don't need you to look after me, Dean! I don't need to to be worried over me. I am an angel of-” Cas' voice abruptly cut off, and his eyes widened in alarm. 

No, he was _not_ an angel of the lord. Not anymore. 

In a rush of movement, Cas snatched the edge of the blanket out of Dean's hands and he scrambled away from him. He used his sock-covered foot to push at Dean's hip insistently, his face screwed up into an expression of complete pain.

“Get. Out.” His cold voice was at odds with the tangible, hot-tempered fury Cas was exuding. 

“But-”

“Now, Dean!”

“Just wait a sec-”

“I DON'T WANT YOU HERE.”

Silence. 

“Okay, Cas.” 

Dean stood up, head hanging, and he shuffled over to the door. He looked behind him once more at Cas, who had his eyes resolutely turned away from Dean. His face had hardened into a mask of icy indifference, and Dean couldn't prevent the hurt noise that slipped from his mouth before he escaped the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

****

Sam looked up from the book he was reading in surprise as Dean stormed passed him, heading towards the exit of the bunker. 

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” Dean replied curtly. 

“Where?”

“Jesus, Sammy, I said out!”

The door slammed behind Dean, leaving Sam sitting in stunned silence. 

****

Cas watched his door close behind Dean, a low groan spilling from his lips. _What did I do?_

Cas rolled over in his bed, bringing the blankets up above his head and blocking out any and all light. He replayed the scene over and over, his mind stuck on a loop. He was alternating between Dean's fallen expression – a cross between that of a kicked puppy and of a child being yelled at for something they did not do – and hearing the forlorn sound that Dean let out before he despondently left the room. 

But Cas couldn't help it. He had all of these emotions rattling around inside him, fighting to get out. And he didn't know what was going to tip him over the edge until he was already over it. His emotions were like a tidal wave, growing and growing far out at sea, invisible to everyone until it was too late and the water was already leaving nothing but destruction in it's wake. 

He shoved his head into his pillow, pointedly ignoring the growing ache in his chest at the idea that Dean thought he didn't want him.

Being human was hard.

****

Cas came to a few hours later, and he felt no better, if not worse. His head was pounding and his throat was dry, but the most uncomfortable sensation was a fullness just below his stomach. _I need to use the bathroom,_ he noted with disdain.

How on earth did humans live like this? There was so much to be taken care of, something that always needed tending to. Life as an angel may not have been perfect, but it was simple. Almost anything could be fixed with a touch of his grace. 

And now Castiel was useless. Without his grace, what good was he to the Winchesters? How could he help on a hunt if the only advantage he has ever had was now gone? How could he protect Dean?

A rush of memories came back, and Cas frowned pitifully. Apparently, Dean needed protection from the monster that was Cas' chaotic emotions more than he did from the supernatural. 

With a miserable sigh, Cas fought his way free from the blankets cocooning him and made his way to the bathroom, taking care of his business, before he walked to the kitchen, feet dragging the entire way. 

When he walked in, he found Sam with an empty plate in front of him, and an empty mug that used to hold what Cas presumed to be coffee. Sam looked up, offering a friendly smile.

“Hey, Cas.” He paused, taking in Cas' rather downtrodden appearance, before continuing. “How're you feeling?”

“Fine,” Cas replied sullenly, eyeing Sam's mug longingly. 

Sam flashed a grin at his friend.

“There's more coffee in the pot,” he informed Cas. 

He heaved a sigh before shuffling to the kitchen bench to make himself a cup of coffee. 

“So,” Sam began. “Dean left here in a mood.”

Cas made no reaction to indicate he was listening to Sam, but somehow Sam knew he was. 

“Any idea what's wrong with him?” 

Cas sighed again and sat down in at the table, eyeing his chipped nail polish. 

“I may have been … unnecessarily harsh with him.” 

Sam grimaced. If there was a sure-fire way to put Dean in a slump, that would be it. 

“What happened?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.” 

It was Sam's turn to sigh, as he knew he would have no luck getting the story out of Dean. God, those two were hopeless. He was seriously beginning to doubt whether or not they'd get their heads out of their asses and kiss already. Idiots. 

****

Dean pulled the Impala into her regular spot and cut the ignition with shaking hands. He had certainly calmed down some, but there was a ball of anxiety sitting on his chest like an anvil that refused to budge, no matter what Dean tried. 

It wasn't like Dean expected better. Except that he kind of did. At least from Cas. Dean knew he was a sorry son of a bitch, but he'd always thought Cas hadn't seen him the same way. Maybe now that he was human, too, he could see it clearer. 

It's just … Everything was different with Cas. Dean might be stuck in the closet, but even he had enough self-awareness to know that their relationship was less than platonic. Cas was the exception to every one of Dean's self-imposed rules, and hearing those harsh words from him stirred up something unsettling inside Dean. 

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts and exited the Impala, entering the bunker and following the voices that led him to the kitchen. 

He stood in the entry and saw Cas slumped over a mug of coffee, absently listening to Sam prattling on about something or another. Probably his hair. 

Taking advantage of the fact that Cas hadn't yet noticed his arrival, Dean studied his face, feeling guilty for doing so. He felt like a voyeur, like he didn't have the right to look at Cas anymore. Whatever he'd done to make him angry, Dean was determined to fix it. 

Clearing his throat to announce his return, Sam and Cas both turned their heads in his direction. 

“Hey,” Dean said rather glumly.

Sam made a face at Dean's tone, but he was too busy making emotional heart-eyes at Cas to notice. 

“Hello.” Cas' answering tone was quiet, but no less laden with heartache.

Dean's eyes flicked in Sam's direction before returning to Cas, steadfastly ignoring his presence as he continued.

“Can we talk?” 

Cas looked surprised, and he perked up with the stirrings of a hopeful expression.

“Of course.”

Dean nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. He turned around and made his way to his room without checking to see if Cas was following. 

Sam was once again left alone, and he shook his head at the love-sick fools before retreating to the library.

****

When they made it to Dean's room, he closed the door behind him. The moment the door shut, Dean forgot everything he wanted to say. He felt pathetic, like he was about to beg for forgiveness or something. Which essentially was what he was about to do. Because even though he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, he knew he _must_ have done something. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't see Cas approaching until he was standing directly in front of him.

Their eyes made contact, and Dean was lost in a sea of blue. If he was having trouble concentrating before, that was nothing compared to the difficulties he was having now. Cas' eyes were intense, unlike anything Dean had ever known before. It had always been that way between them, so easy to forget anything but their steady presence and unwavering gaze. Time lost all meaning as they searched each others eyes for hidden messages. _Is Cas still pissed at me? Will he forgive me if I apologise?_

Before Dean could voice any of his thoughts, Cas opened his mouth.

“I owe you an apology.” 

Dean froze, stunned into silence. Their staring competition continued as Dean struggled to make sense of Cas' words.

“I don't understand,” he admitted. 

“Dean,” Cas' voice was soft with affection. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I-” he broke off, and Dean could see his frustration plain as day on his face. 

“I don't know where to begin. Being human is more complicated than I imagined. I will never understand how you do it every day and survive.” 

Dean smiled crookedly. 

“It's my charm and quick wit.” 

“I'm being serious, Dean.” His quiet voice was earnest, and Dean lost his cocky grin. “I was a dick to you.”

Dean was already shaking his head.

“Nah, Cas. It's fine. I obviously upset you and I'm sorry for that.”

“Damn it, Dean! Would you just let me apologise?”

Dean quietened down, waiting for Cas to go on.

“I wasn't angry at you. You did nothing wrong. I was overwhelmed. You can't imagine what it's like, the fall. And I wouldn't know how to explain it, except this: imagine everything you've ever known, your whole entire life, shifting. Changed so profoundly, but still there in memory. Having to adjust to a new set of rules, emotions and thoughts. I've spent millennia an angel and barely a month human. I was upset about something else, and I took it out on you.”

Dean watched the emotions play on Cas' face, in awe of the sheer amount of feeling he saw in the depths of Cas' eyes.

“I'm so sorry for what I said and how I made you feel. I will always want you around.” 

Dean's breath hitched at those words. Doubts sprang to mind instantly, but Cas' meaningful look refused to allow any to form further than a distant thought. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean breathed. “That's, ah. Wow. Thanks.”

Cas waited with baited breath for Dean to continue.

“I mean, I forgive you, of course.”

An exhalation of relief left Cas' body, his tense posture relaxing into something more comfortable, and all visible signs of stress vanished. With his mind now free of burden, he noticed the bag in Dean's hand and tilted his head in curiosity. 

“What's in there?” He gestured to the bag as he spoke.

Dean felt a blush rise to his cheeks and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. 

“I bought you some more nail polish,” he answered in a quiet voice. 

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “Can I see it?” 

Dean handed the bag over to Cas, who immediately took it to Dean's bed. He sat himself down and upturned the bag, face lighting up as he saw bottle after bottle of nail polish tumble out onto the bed. 

“Where did you get all these?” Cas asked, voice laced with wonder.

Dean couldn't help but smile at his child-like happiness at such a small thing.

“Drug store,” Dean shrugged. 

Cas thumbed through the pile, picking up each bottle and studying its contents with a look far too serious for the activity at hand. There were reds and blues; oranges and greens; pinks, purples and yellows. Black, white, silver and gold. His eyes were as wide as saucers, uncomprehending at the amount of colours available. 

“This is incredible.” 

Cas' normally gravelly voice was raised in delight, and a shiver ran down Dean's spine in reaction.

Finally, Cas finished his perusal of each bottle and placed all but two back into the plastic bag. The colours he had chosen were grasped in his hand; one was a candy apple green and the other a vibrant violet. Cas bit his lip, and Dean felt his pants grow inexplicably tighter when Cas looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“Would you paint them for me, Dean?” 

Dean's heart clenched at the tentative hope in Cas' voice.

“Sure thing, man.” 

Cas' face lit up with an exuberant smile, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and Dean lost his breath as his heart skipped a beat. 

Dean approached the bed and sat down, deciding how best to position them. He toed his shoes off and told Cas to do the same. 

“That way we can sit like this,” he explained, crossing his legs underneath him while he faced Cas.

Cas followed suit, and Dean took the bottles out of Castiel's hand.

“Which colour are you thinkin'?”

“Both, please. Green on my left hand, purple on my right.” 

Endearment for Cas overcame Dean for a moment, and he couldn't prevent the content smile from spreading across his face. 

“Let's do this,” Dean smirked. 

Dean reached out and grasped Cas' right hand. As soon as he did, Dean realised he was going to have to use both hands to paint – one to hold the bottle, and one to hold the brush. The most logical solution would be to rest Cas' hand on his leg. Dean gulped, and looked at Cas, who was oblivious to Dean's internal dilemma. Taking a shaky breath in to calm his nerves, Dean placed Cas' hand on his thigh, just above his bent knee, and struggled to keep his composure. 

Cas' hands were tanned and his fingers slender. Dean took his time opening the bottle, enraptured with how _nice_ it felt to have Cas' hand resting casually on his leg. As though this was a common occurrence, a mundane daily activity rather than quite possibly the closest thing Dean might ever get to casual affection with the man he loved. 

And there it was. The man he loved. Took him a while, but he got there eventually. 

Surprisingly, with Dean's admission came no earth-shattering, soul-destroying revelations. It was more like checking the time to see it was later than he'd realised; a mild shock, but nothing further. 

Dean's hands were steady as he began painting Cas' nails. He started with the pinky nail, slowly making his way through the fingers of Cas' right hand. As much as he wanted to take this opportunity to look at Cas, he didn't want to ruin Cas' nails. So Dean opted to use the full capacity of his concentration, making sure the polish stayed on Cas' nails and not the surrounding skin. 

“Done,” Dean stated, beaming proudly. 

Cas' eyes were tender, and he smiled as he brought his hand close to his face to look at each of his nails. 

“They're perfect.”

A delicate pink stained the apples of Dean's cheeks as he accepted the compliment, and his breathing stuttered when he looked into Cas' eyes. It seemed like there was something more Cas wanted to add, and Dean hesitated. But the moment passed, so Dean grasped Cas' other hand and brought it to rest on his leg. 

With the change in angle, his left hand ended up slightly higher on Dean's thigh, and the proximity of it to his crotch was enough to leave Dean sweating. Trust him to pop a semi while he was painting his best friends nails. 

Dean traded the purple polish for the green and he gave the bottle a gentle shake before opening it and starting in on Cas' nails. They remained in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each others presence. 

For Dean, it was the first time their relationship felt somewhat stable since Castiel's fall, and he didn't want to do anything to disrupt the balance they had found. Especially after finally admitting what he'd known about his feelings for so long. He wasn't sure if his already fragile nerves could take another argument. 

So he painted Cas' nails, head down, forehead slightly creased and his tongue peeking out between his lips while he focused. 

Dean smiled and sat back, satisfaction radiating from every pore in his body.

“I think this is even better than the first hand.” 

Cas did the same as before and moved his hand up to his face, eyes glued to each green nail. 

“Dean, they're so beautiful.” Cas' voice was quiet with it's wonder. “But they're all wet.” 

He pouted, and Dean was too weak to resist. 

“C'mere.” 

Dean reached for one of Castiel's hands and took it gently between his own. He raised it to his mouth and when Cas' fingers were about an inch from his lips, he began to blow. The light puff of air sent goosebumps down Cas' arms, and Dean watched them as they formed. 

He continued in his endeavour to dry Cas' nails, if only to remove the grumpy frown from Cas' face. But he would be lying if he said having any part of Castiel's body so close to his lips wasn't part of the reason. 

A few minutes passed, and Dean released his hand, trading it for the other. Repeating the same pattern, he released a steady stream of warm air from his parted lips, shaking his head to dry each nail equally. 

As he neared the end, Dean glanced up and caught Cas staring intently at his mouth. Dean was taken aback by the dark expression of arousal on his face, and he abruptly cut off mid-blow. Cas lifted his eyes to Dean's, looking slightly guilty. Dean cleared his throat and licked his now dry lips, lowering Cas' hand from his lips. 

“I think they're dry now,” Dean croaked. 

Cas nodded solemnly and moved his hands to rest in his lap. For a while, nothing happened. There was no sound save for their quiet breathing. Their eyes remained locked, both refusing to be the first to look away or acknowledge what was happening between them. 

For Dean, it was mostly because he was in a state of shock. What were the chances that the day he owned up to his feelings was the same day that this was happening? Whatever this was. 

There was a tangible electricity in the air, creating an atmosphere that caused the hairs on the back of Dean's neck to stand on end. It was like they were both waiting for something unknown to happen.

It was Cas who broke the silence. And as usual, what came out of his mouth left Dean reeling. 

“I love you.”

Dean sucked in a shocked breath, his mouth falling open in surprise. At a loss for words, he searched Cas' eyes for any sign that he didn't mean it in the way Dean took it – that Cas was _in_ love with him – but he found none. Only a resolute certainty and warm affection. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “You can't just say that.” 

“Why not?” Cas' brow furrowed in bewilderment and his head cocked slightly to the right. “It's true. I thought we weren't supposed to lie to each other, Dean.” 

Dean shook his head in disbelief and ran his hands down his face. He let out a frustrated groan into his hands. What was he supposed to say to that? If he told Cas that he felt the same, everything would change. There would be pressure and commitments and fights. 

He lowered his hands from his face, and peered into Cas' face. On the other hand, there could be other things, too. Like hand-holding. Lying closely next to each other while they watched T.V, or even sharing a bed while they slept ( _I will not turn into a cuddler_ ). There could be … kisses. He looked down at Cas' lips.

“I, um,” he paused. 

Was he really going to do this? One look at Cas' face led Dean to realise that yes, he was in fact going to do this. 

“I love you, too.”

A slow smile made it's way across Castiel's face. It started at his lips, spreading wide, before transforming his face into a brilliant display of happiness. His whole posture changed; he sat up straighter, he moved his shoulders back, and he leaned towards Dean.

Dean knew what was coming, but it happened before he had time to register the rapidly shrinking distance between his and Cas' mouths. 

Cas' lips were soft and dry, pressing eager kisses against Dean's lips. Dean raised his hands to frame Cas' jaw, and his hands scraped along his scruff. It sent a jolt of awareness through Dean, reminding him that this was _Cas_ he was kissing, not some random hook up. While it wasn't Dean's first kissing a dude, it was definitely his most pivotal. He'd kissed a few before, even had some feelings for them. But he'd never felt this way about a guy before. Or a girl, Dean noted with quiet surprise. 

Cas kissed Dean with unbridled passion. What he lacked in skills, he made up for with enthusiasm, and Dean responded bodily. He lifted to his knees, head bent to stay attached to Cas' mouth, and with gentle pressure against Cas' shoulders, he pushed him backwards until he was lying flat underneath Dean. 

With this new position brought a different angle, and Dean felt Cas' erection poking insistently at his hip. He released Cas' lips and looked down between them. Dean couldn't explain the satisfaction he felt at seeing Cas' response to Dean. Cas clutched at Dean's shoulders, a breathy moan leaving his parted lips.

“Dean, please. I want to feel you.”

Dean looked up into Cas' eyes, and arousal coursed through his veins. Cas' head was thrown back and he impatiently ground his hips into Dean's.

“Are you sure you want this, Cas?”

Dean knew he wanted it, but before anything more happened, he had to be sure Cas felt the same. 

“Yes, Dean,” he said around a moan, hips not breaking their pattern. “Now hurry up.”

Dean grinned darkly, and pushed his hips down against Cas' upward thrust. 

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmured.

Dean swallowed Cas' response as he started nibbling on Cas' bottom lip. He bit down hard, and Cas' breathing stuttered. Cas wrapped his legs around Dean's hips, bringing their erections closer together, and Dean moaned. 

“Shirt off,” Cas panted. 

Dean pulled his shirt above his head in one swift movement, tossing it aside before removing Cas' shirt. Actually, it was one of Dean's shirts that Cas had commandeered, but that wasn't relevant right now. 

A sudden wave of self-consciousness overcame Dean. He knew he'd gained a bit of weight, and in the harsh light of his room, he was sure every bulge and every roll was on display. 

Cas noticed the lack of activity from Dean, and he looked at him questioningly. 

“What's wrong?” 

A blush burned Dean's cheeks, and he looked down at his pudgy stomach, refusing to verbalise his worries. Awareness dawned on Cas, and he used a finger under Dean's chin to nudge his head up. 

“Dean,” he began, eyes unwavering in their sincerity, “You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Please, don't be shy with me.”

Wordlessly, Dean leaned down to kiss Cas again. When their lips met, Cas flipped them over. Dean grunted in surprise, and Cas grinned down at him. He pressed another soft kiss on Dean's mouth, before moving his lips further south.

He started to worship Dean's body with his mouth, stopping to kiss along every scar and freckle. He pressed his lips to Dean's hips, where the skin overhung on the waistband of Dean's jeans. 

Dean could hardly believe what was happening. He was struggling to remain in the moment, his dark thoughts were beckoning him, but with each new kiss Cas gave Dean, he grounded himself. He didn't realise tears were streaming down his face until Cas propped himself above Dean, worry in his eyes, and reached out with a hand to wipe them away. 

“What is it?” Cas whispered. 

Dean shook his head, but Cas was insistent.

“You have to tell me, Dean.”

Dean took a shuddering breath, sniffling quietly. 

“You deserve better than me.” 

Cas' face froze in an expression of astonishment.

“Surely you don't mean that.”

Dean didn't answer, but he dropped his eyes from Cas', instead focusing on his bare chest. 

“Dean,” Cas' voice was impossibly gentle. “You are … I have no words. In all of my time, I have never met anyone like you. The amount of love you have for your family and friends after everything you have been though? It's inconceivable.” 

Cas looked at Dean with love in his eyes, and it was hard for Dean to deny that he meant what he said, no matter what that voice inside his head might be telling him to think. 

“I just don't know why you'd wanna be with me,” Dean admitted. 

Cas shook his head incredulously.

“You will,” he said decisively. “If it takes me the rest of our lives, I'll show you what you mean to me.” 

Dean's eyes shone with more tears, but he blinked them away. Cas rubbed his thumb along Dean's cheekbone, and they shared a tender smile.

“We don't have to keep going,” Cas said, gesturing between them. “We can talk instead.”

Dean shook his head before Cas finished speaking.

“No. I mean, if you still want to, then so do I. I just got overwhelmed.” 

This time, it was Cas' turn to ask.

“You're sure, Dean?”

“Positive.” 

They locked eyes, sparkling green looking into forget-me-not blues, and Dean reached up with his lips at the exact moment Cas bent his head. They met in a heated kiss, the residual energy from earlier igniting an explosion between them. Dean's tongue traced along Cas' bottom lip, seeking entrance, and Cas parted his lips on a gasp. Dean plundered his mouth, his tongue stroking along Cas' and shivering at the taste of him. 

Lowering his body back along Dean's, Cas resumed gently rolling his hips. Both had softened in their pants, but it didn't take long for Dean's dick to stir with interest at the renewal of their previous activities. 

Dean wound his arms around Cas and dragged his nails down his naked back, delighted that he had such an expanse of skin to touch. Moving his mouth from Cas', Dean pressed wet kisses against his throat and bit down gently, causing Cas to cry out loud and tighten his hold on Dean's waist. 

Cas slid his hands further down, and undid the button and zipper on Dean's jeans before tapping his fingers against his hips.

“Lift up,” he instructed quietly. 

Dean lifted his hips, and Cas pulled his pants down with his underwear in one smooth motion. Dean assisted, using his legs to wriggle them off where they got trapped around his ankles and kick them down onto the floor. 

Cas barely took the time to remove his own sweatpants before he looked down between their bodies, studying their leaking erections. Dean's arousal grew under Cas' scrutiny, and he bucked his hips up so their cocks brushed. They both groaned, and Dean spared a glance to see what they looked like together.

Cas was uncut; Dean was cut. Dean was longer, but Cas had a wider girth and slight upward curve that would be useful for finding Dean's prostate. But Dean wanted to save that for a later date. They had a lot of time to explore each others bodies, and he wanted to drag it out for as long as possible. 

It felt surreal, having Cas so close to him in such an intimate way. Despite all of Dean's fantasies, he never in a million years imagined any of them panning out in reality. 

Dean reached down with a tentative hand; he may have shared a few make-out sessions with guys before, but that was as far as Dean had ever let it go. This was all completely new to him. He reached for Cas' cock, and at the first touch, Cas let out a deep groan that resonated through his chest. 

Assured by Cas' reaction, Dean wrapped his hand around Cas, and gave it a light stroke. He watched, fascinated by the way Cas' foreskin moved with each tug of his hand. He was so transfixed that he missed one of Cas' hands moving from his hold on Dean's hips, and let out a surprised moan when Cas returned the favour, using his hand to spread pre-come over Dean's erection. 

“Fuck,” Dean huffed out. 

After a few moments of exploratory touching, Cas shifted his body so he was seated atop Dean's lap, their dicks perfectly aligned. Cas looked down at Dean with hunger in his eyes, and Dean gulped. 

“You look so good below me,” Cas whispered, and Dean couldn't help but snort at the cliché.

He was cut off, however, when Cas gripped both of their cocks in one hand, forming a circle around them, and started jerking them off together, a mix of their pre-come easing the way. 

“Ah,” Dean wailed, and he eagerly thrust up into Cas' palm. 

The feeling of having one side of him rub up against Cas' erection, while his other side was stroked by his hand, was causing him to see stars, and he dropped his head back against the pillow, eyes falling shut.

“Look at me,” Cas commanded. “I want to see your eyes.” 

Obediently, Dean opened his eyes and looked straight at Cas, who was rocking steadily above him. Dean met him, thrust for thrust, and he broke out into a sheen of sweat.

“Gonna make you come, just like this,” Cas breathed out, pupils dilated in arousal. 

Dean was unsure if it was the words, or the man speaking them, but his dick twitched, and a spurt of pre-come dribbled from the tip. Castiel used his other hand to palm at the head of Dean's cock, and he pressed into the slit as he continued stroking them.

He lowered his eyes to watch Cas' movements, and found himself captivated by the powerful muscles of his thighs, rippling underneath tanned skin. He groaned quietly, and ran his hands up them, squeezing and feeling, then rested them on either side of Cas' pelvis. 

The sight of their erections sliding together was almost too much for Dean, and he struggled with not ending their fun a bit prematurely. 

“Feels so good, Cas.” 

Cas just smiled, hooded eyes locked onto Dean's prone form, and didn't stop in his mission to get them both to the finish line. His hips were making small movements, which was pressing his dick closer to Dean's, and Dean could feel his orgasm quickly approaching. 

He would be embarrassed, but this was his first time with a guy – and it was _Cas_ – so he gave himself a free pass, and just let himself go. 

A loud moan was all the warning Dean gave Cas, before he tipped over the edge. His eyes fell shut, hapless against the feeling that washed over him. His dick pulsed with spurt after spurt of come, splashing all over Cas' hands and cock. A particularly ambitious string of ejaculate landed on Cas' stomach and slowly dripped down to nestle in his dark nest of pubic hair. Cas was relentless, and didn't stop squeezing Dean until he was fully soft and overly-sensitive. 

Heart pounding, Dean watched with half-open eyes as Cas scooped up all of Dean's come and used it as extra lube on his own cock, and Dean swore under his breath.

“You'll be the death of me, I swear,” he muttered. 

Cas moved, resting his weight on one forearm so he was hovering over Dean, and he quickened the pace of his hand. Dean reached out and grasped Cas' plump ass, one cheek in each hand, and squeezed, pushing Cas' hips into his own, while he buried his head in Cas' neck and bit down hard. 

“Dean!” 

Cas came with a powerful cry, hips stuttering as he thrust into his own fist, and his heated come splashed over Dean's abdomen. 

It was quiet as Cas finished himself off, their laboured breathing and the wet sounds of Cas jerking himself the only noise in the room. Cas sighed, and he released himself, rolling off Dean to lay on his back. Dean turned his head to the side, and Cas did too, their eyes meeting as they both came down from their post-orgasmic highs. 

Dean smiled at Cas, a happy, warm smile, and Cas returned it tenfold. 

“I need to clean us up,” Dean said, gesturing to their come-splattered bodies. 

He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed one of their discarded shirts, wiping himself down first, then giving Cas the same treatment. Cas laid still, eyes on Dean's face, radiating a contentedness so complete that Dean couldn't help but feel it too. The second he balled it up and tossed it away, Cas drew him into the circle of his arms, and Dean rested his head on Cas' chest. Cas had one arm around Dean's shoulders, and the other rested on his own stomach. Dean reached out and laced their fingers together, thumb brushing over the back of Cas' hand.

He pressed a few tender kisses over Cas' heart, eyes on their joint hands, and the green of Cas' nail polish reminded Dean of an earlier query. He cleared his throat gently before talking.

“Cas?”

“Hm?”

“ Why'd you choose purple and green?”

“I chose purple because I liked the colour. And I chose green, because it reminded me of your eyes.”

****

Sam paused outside Dean's room on his way back to his own, and heard him making some tell-tale sounds. Rolling his eyes at Dean's penchant for self-love, he started walking again, but went stock still when he heard another moan. This one belonging to the voice of a particularly deep-voiced man. 

A cross between a grimace and a relieved smile graced his face, and he walked back to his room feeling significantly lighter. _Finally._

**Author's Note:**

> For every kudos this gets, Misha Collins smiles.


End file.
